Head-Clearing Day

28Apr

Here, I sat. I was doing nothing other than browsing Cake Wrecks and derping about on forums. I had a plot constructed based on a few songs, but my fingers refused to do anything else on the subject. Instead, I sat next to my best friend and wasted time. She gave me the rest of her Olive Garden breadsticks from the night before– great night, that.

Charles was a pain for the beginning of the day. Even with medication, he was very grumpy. Many of his time-outs went wrong when he smeared lotion on the toilet seat because “girls don’t have weewees,” or he stole from my older sister. Finally, I just sat on him to keep him calm and let him tire himself. The morning was stressful, and even though I tried to keep him calm with movies and snacks, it was never enough. Finally, I just got him as angry as I could and put him in his room, where his own anger made him incapable of doing anything but flailing on the floor or bed and screaming.

After texting back and forth with my mother, I learned around three in the afternoon that she finally picked my friend up from her house, and was on her way home. I was so relieved! Only two hours ago, and they passed horribly slow. Charles repeatedly caused trouble, even from his bedroom. My friends could hear him through my microphone as I waited and used my prescription eye dropper every two hours on the eye that supposedly was infected. After two days of dosing, it felt normal enough, though the other seemed perpetually dry.

Finally, Mom arrived home, accompanied by my brother, Dad, Junior, and Chibi. I released Charles from his room, and greeted my best friend with a hug. She followed me around as I finished some last minute chores, then helped her unload her bags and carry them to the basement, and then we dashed to the van to escape the chaotic place I called home.

The drive to Ann Arbor felt short, and was filled with near-constant chatter. The wait for a table at the restaurant was much the same, and the meal was over far too fast. Chibi and I both ordered chicken-based meals, while Mom ordered a sampler platter bigger than her torso, and Dad ordered pasta. None of us could finish, but we expected that. For dessert, we all ordered the same thing– tiny sugary pudding-like cups that came in five different flavors, and when we were finished, we went home.

The ride home was relaxed, and we chattered for half of it, and dozed through the latter half, waking now and then as the sunset outside progressed.

It was the most enjoyable time I’d had in a long time, and as we arrived home, Chibi and I went downstairs to write and prepare for bed after thanking my mother for treating us to my favorite restaurant.

I wrote a post while in a voice call, and it was utter crap, but it was a thousand words, and by the end it was turning to nonsense as my brain began to shut down for much-needed rest after a very busy day.

Cleaning my bed took some time, and we crawled in with my brother’s puppy around two in the morning, and sleep found us quickly. It felt like only moments later that I woke and barely caught a drip from my nose in a tissue. Moments moved slowly as I tried to figure out what was going on, and by then my nosebleed was steady, and filled the tissue already. I quickly replaced it and took my box to the bathroom to wait it out.

I returned to bed and noticed that it was around five. The logical part of my mind told me to just get up, but the louder, more sensible side told me to get back in bed, it was warmer there. Moments later, I woke to Mom’s call and got out of bed. I dressed, stretched, went to the bathroom, and then headed upstairs. By then, Mom was resting and Dad was cooking an early dinner for everyone– pork chops in orange glaze, mashed potatoes and bacon gravy, and peas. The dinner of champions. We stole some milk and headed downstairs to break fast on cheese doodles and forum posts.

A plot came to mind after listening to several songs, and I wrote the gist out for myself so I could avoid my trademark dropped plot-bits.

For hours, I alternated between staring at that little plot bunny in Notepad++, playing on forums as two different people, and reading Cake Wrecks. I avoided Imgur and World of Warcraft like they were plagued– both could suck me in far too easily.

Finally, I made a decision. I scrapped my plot and decided to write about recent events in my life. My thought process? It would help me clear those events from my head and give me the opportunity to delve into those created worlds and times, and prevent the dreaded blank stare that often found itself to my face when I looked at the new post page on WordPress.

Well, the words came easier after a time, and I began to warm back up to writing, and the words moved through my hands into the keyboard. Around midnight, I hit the pace I wanted to move at, and kept going on about how it was working better than the usual methods I’d been trying of late.

Around that time, I ran out of content to write about as well, and Chibi began to play games on her tablet– cutesy, farmville-esque games that were very similar to each other, save usually all of one differing trait. She grew irked with my critique of the game, and hurried off to the bathroom, and I continued to type.

Distraction hit me in the form of cheese powder from my chips getting into the eye that wasn’t infected. For a few moments, I rubbed and rubbed, and it didn’t help. The nacho-like spices simply irritated my eye, and I finally reached for my prescription drops to deal with the problem.

Once soothed, I returned to writing, aware now that one eye was more moist than the other, and finished my ‘story’ of the past two days, then crawled the hell into bed without bothering to remove my top hat.

Mood, formerly known as Face, is a young writer from Michigan who is twenty-five years old. She specializes in fantasy and loves creating new worlds. Mood believes she is a talented creator, but knows she still has a lot of skills she needs to improve.

This blog is her practice area. She writes publicly in hopes that having readers will lessen her chances of skipping a day.